


we shine in these spaces

by anthropologicalhands



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Compliant, F/M, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Gen, No Uchiha Massacre, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 01:57:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 14,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16844842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthropologicalhands/pseuds/anthropologicalhands
Summary: SasuSaku and Uchiha family prompt fills from tumblr





	1. prompt: the silk to your steel

_fic drop: unlike her best friend, mikoto is not a woman given to theatrics. and so she does not know what to do with this, this stirring that has taken root in her chest, a mustard seed planted in fertile soil. he takes her hand, and every gentleness inside her rushes to meet the hardness inside him. i would like to be the silk to your steel, she would say if she knew how. i would like to be yours, if you'd let me._

* * *

His hand is warm and her chilled fingers curl gratefully in his grasp. The stirring in her chest blooms as they stray together, off of Konoha’s main road, winding through the alleyways, where the only people who see them passing are workers sitting in the open doorsteps, the stale scent of cigarettes mingling with the spice of grilling meats.

He waited for her after her first solo S-class. She was worn and hungry and still clad in broken gear. Her mission was a success; the mission she received based on the strength of her performance in their team, where she demonstrated that listening for the whisper of cloth is as valuable as the singing of flung steel.

“You look tired,” he said then, his tone as clipped and if he was anyone other than who he is it would be an insult. But Mikoto takes it for what it is: a simple observation.

He reached out to her.

“Come take tea with me.”

She did not decline. She did not expect anyone to be waiting for her—that it is _him_ warms away the cold that settled in her bones with the first rain of the season; the same rain that continues to mist over them as they make their way through the city.

It is a shame that the words stick in the back of her throat so, for he would hear them perfectly.

Their association began later than most—he is not her childhood crush, her idol or her fantasy. He is a peer, one of her squad mates when she first becomes a Jounin.

He is one of the first to hear her. Being seen was never her concern—she knows that she is seen. comments on her beauty, her fluidity of movement, her grace—all spill forth from so many lips, that it is all she can do not let her strained smile crumple—but when she speaks up on her very first mission, offers to scout ahead and flush out their target, he is the first to turn his head and the one to not dismiss her outright. For Mikoto whispers, not from a weak conviction or meekness but because her presence lacks the command that others of her age naturally carry, and so she lowers her voice instead of trying to raise it. She makes others listen through softness, not weakness, and he is the first to understand it. Understand her.

She knows others see him just as clearly: the next noble clan leader, possessor of the Sharingan (oh how it unnerved her, the first time his eyes bled crimson).But she is certain that she is the only one to hear him in the way he hears her. Fugaku speaks as though he knows the world better than it is (a habit that riles many). He is honest to the point of harshness, but that does not frighten her. Even on missions gone wrong, when he criticizes the strength of her stance, the precision of her bladework—she recognizes the advice for what it is, and does not hear the disdain others seek to console her of.

It is this they have in common: this ability to recognize intent and strength of will beyond merely tone and delivery. That is their bond—that delicate thread of understanding that has joined them so closely together in such a short time.

That is all she needs to love him, to realize that in her thoughts, there are not only friends and acquaintances and superiors but also Mother,Father and Kushina and then there is Fugaku.

There is nothing soft about him: not in his face or his voice or his gestures. But he is not so sharp that she will bleed. His lines are clean and broad and strong, not at all like the boys she trained with as a Genin or the gangly teens she sparred with as a Chuunin. She appreciates this hardness, this impenetrable exterior, because she recognizes the effort put into wearing it.

He does not need to hold himself so stiffly, she thinks. There is gentleness there, within him, if he is willing to embrace it. She sees it in his face when they speak of inconsequential things, hears it in his laughter, rare as it is. Feels it in the lines of his palm.

They stop just outside the teashop and he turns to face her. Her cheeks flood red as she tips her head up to meet his gaze. He has not let go of her hand.

What he says next, she does not hear.

“I’m sorry?” she asks, leaning closer.

He repeats himself, bending his head forward, words still too soft to make out.

She shakes her head. “I cannot hear you.”

She does not ask him to speak louder.

He keeps talking, voice low and soothing and still inaudible.

It is strange that she does not hear him.

But for this, she does not need to.

So she presses closer and closer until there is no space left between them, and the words are no longer needed.


	2. prompt: sarada meets taka for the first time

That Sarada likes Juugo is no surprise. She looks even tinier than she already is, hands clinging to his shirt, one large hand supporting her bottom and the other bracing her back. She bounces, giggling, her hands coming up and batting against his nose and lips. Juugo endures, smiling.

“She’s a happy child,” he says to Sasuke, eyes still on the baby. “Very cute, too.”

“Must take after her mother, then,” snipes Suigetsu, elbowing Sasuke in the side. Sasuke just ignores him.

“She is an easy child,” he allows. Despite his bland tone, he watches Sarada carefully, fingers twitching, ready to reach out and intervene should his daughter try to wiggle away. She has grown more active in the recent months, and there are been a few incidents that he does not care to repeat.

Suigetsu, his customary sword missing from his back, leans forward, catches Sarada’s eye. He grins widely, revealing all of his teeth.

“Don’t scare her, Suigetsu,” warns Juugo.

“ _I’m not!_ She’s laughing, see?”

Indeed. Rather than shrinking away from Suigetsu’s admittedly frightening face, Sarada only laughs louder, reaching out to Suigetsu and forcing Juugo to adjust his hold on her. Amused, Suigetsu keeps inching closer, stretching his face into expressions that most shinobi (let alone young children) would run from screaming in terror. Sarada just laughs the louder.

“You might want to get out of range,” observes Sasuke. “She likes your hair.”

Suigetsu ignores him. But sure enough Sarada’s hands close around a hank of pale hair and she _pulls_. He yelps and is about two seconds away from liquefying out of the demon infant’s grasp, but he catches Sasuke’s eye, and the look that states very clearly _do that and my wife (who is not here right now) will kill you._ So instead Suigetsu settles for the old-fashioned method of waiting (im)patiently as Sarada gives a few more tugs before losing interest and releases him.

“Little monster,” mutters Suigetsu, glowering at her.

“Should have tied your hair back,” says Karin, flicking her own ponytail over her shoulder and smirking at Suigetsu from her spot on the couch, the only one of the group sitting. “Told you the kid would be old enough to have a grip.”

“Yeah yeah,” grouses Suigetsu, glaring at Karin. “Not like you’re gotten close enough to get in trouble.”

Unconcerned by the squabbling taking place besides her, Sarada starts to wiggle out of Juugo’s grasp, despite his best efforts to keep a hold of her. Sasuke relieves him of her, and when Sarada’s restlessness does not cease, puts her down on the carpet. He remains crouched down as Sarada very determinedly crawls away.

“Is she walking yet?” asks Juugo, also crouching down.

Sasuke shakes his head. “Two steps and she falls on her face. She prefers crawling for now.”

The phone rings in the kitchen. Sasuke tilts his head at the sound, and turns to Juugo.

“That would be her mother. Watch her for a moment?”

Juugo nods and Sasuke rises and exits the room.

Bored of Juugo, Sarada crawls over to Suigetsu. Using his pants leg as support, she levers herself up into standing position. Suigetsu stops arguing with Karin and looks down at her. Sarada bounces, excited, and gabbles.

“Nice try, squirt, but I’m not letting you anywhere near my hair again.”

Sarada flops down again and pouts, though he doubts she understood any of what he said. Then her interest diverts to Karin, and starts moving towards her with a determined gleam in her eye. Karin scoots back further into the couch.

“Not a good idea, kid.”

“What? Don’t want to touch the spawn of your dear Sasuke if it isn’t yours?”

Karin glares at him. “No. For that last time, we’re done!”

“There never was a ‘we’ in that case, wench—”

“Suigetsu, language,” says Juugo softly, but clearly in warning.

Sugetsu grimaces, with a quick glance to the doorway, lest Sarada’s father intends to barrel through for daring to offend his daughter’s sensitive ears.

“Right, right. Sorry.”

Sarada reaches Karin, and stands up so that her hands are resting on Karin’s knees.

Karin stares levelly down at her. “Hi, kid.”

Sarada squeals, and pats Karin’s knees.

“You should pick her up,” says Juugo.

“Not a good idea,” says Suigetsu. “She might decide that if she can’t have Sasuke, she’ll take his kid instead.”

“I don’t want Sasuke’s kid—I don’t want _any_ kid. Especially not wiggly ones I might drop!”

“Gah!”

The three of them look down at their tiny charge.

“…she’s going to ruin your skirt if you keep letting her chew on it like that.”

Karin sighs, and gingerly reaches forward to pick up Sarada and settle her on her lap. Satisfied, Sarada does not squirm, simply looking up into Karin’s.

They watch each other silently for a few moments.

Suigetsu snorts. “Don’t know what you were so worried about. She’s fascinated by your ugly mug.”

“Shut up, Shark Teeth,” says Karin, her voice milder.

She leans forward, her face a little closer to Sarada. “You know, babies usually just look like babies to me, but she actually looks like Sakura.”

Sarada gurgles and reaches out for Karin’s glasses. She leans away and pulls out a pair of plastic sunglasses from the inside of her shirt pocket. This she offers to Sarada, who easily accepts the substitution.

“Is that a good idea, giving it something pointy?” asks Suigetsu.

“The kid has toy kunai—besides, she doesn’t want to chew on them.” Karin grins as Sarada clumsily pushes on the sunglasses.

“How does she take after Sakura?” asks Juugo, interested.

“The eyes. Well, and the smile. Her chakra is pretty potent, for someone so small, so she takes after her father in that.” Karin looks thoughtful. “I’ve never seen Sasuke’s chakra so calm.”

“What? Missing his old bad boy days?”

“Not even remotely,” replies Karin coolly. “It’s simply an observation.”

Suigetsu shifts his balance, crossing his arms.

“Yeah. Never thought I’d see him without that stick in his ass—”

“ _Language_ , Suigetsu.”

“ _Fine_. Sheesh.”

Sarada gurgles.


	3. prompt: sarada and papa prepare for mama's day

This is the first year he lets Sarada “cook” for Sakura—she’s old enough that she can stand upright on one of their chairs and see over the counter, and so he puts her in charge of stirring the pancake batter while he retrieves the Yamanaka flower arrangement he hid in their garden shed.

(It is a little irritating how often he finds himself in the Yamanaka woman’s debt. When he dropped by the shop a week early to place the order, she smugly told him that she had the perfect arrangement already in mind, and he has to admit, it is far better than what he could have put together.)

When he comes back, the arrangement in hand, Sarada is still stirring. There is a tiny wrinkle of concentration between her eyebrows, and the movements she makes with the whisk are still a little jerky. But the batter is mostly smooth and ready for the pan.

“Can I flip, Papa?” she asks. He nods and she smiles, nimbly jumping off the chair and pulling it in front of the stove. She’s still in her red pajamas, the bottoms still a little too big, and he watches closely as she clambers back onto the seat, to be certain she does not trip and fall and crack her head open.

(Sakura’s words—not his; though his fears are no less lurid)

He gives her the spatula and doles out the batter at her word. She has a good sense of timing, possibly from having watched him do the same thing for her so many times, that he scarcely needs to tell her when to flip them over. Sometimes she does so a little too enthusiastically—one pancake splats onto the floor, while another catches on the edge and streaks batter down the outside of the pan. He tells her to keep going while he cleans up the mess and they are the only two casualties of the breakfast.

Still, it is her first time and the end result comes out rather dappled—not the perfect golden circles Sarada was clearly hoping for.

“They’re _ugly_ ,” she complains, glaring at the stack of pancakes. Since she’s gotten her glasses in the last year, the effect is rather pointed. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking. He ruffles her hair, to get her attention.

“Papa will fix it. Go get your present.”

Sarada’s face brightens and she scurries off to retrieve the bundle of pink tissue paper that contains her gift. Sasuke _thinks_ it’s a candleholder shaped as Katsuyu, but isn’t entirely sure.”

He rearranges the pancakes so that the most evenly cooked one is on top. He sets the plate on the tray, with napkins, the right utensils (he’s still figuring out how to use them himself, but both Sakura and Sarada have no such trouble), orange juice and a small pitcher of syrup at the top left corner. The flowers are set in the center of the table, and will be waiting for her when she comes out for the day.

Sarada comes running out of her room with her present and sets it carefully by the flowers.

“Do you have another present for Mama, Papa?”

“Just dinner tonight,” says Sasuke, which is not entirely true. His _other_ present for Sakura will be presented later, after Sarada is asleep.

(Sakura has been complaining about feeling ‘matronly’ recently, despite the fact that her current clothes expose more skin than anything she wore before Sarada was born. Hopefully, his gift will serve as a symbol that he still knows v _ery well_ everything else she can be.)

They step back and observe their handiwork.

“Do you think it’s ready?” he asks Sarada. She nods and grins.

“Time to wake up Mama now!”

“Lead the way.”


	4. sasuke and sakura have a night alone

“ _Dobe-sama’s_ hints are getting ridiculous.”

“Hints?” Sakura shifted on top of her husband, adjusting her body so that the jut of her hip did not dig into his abdomen, entwined as they were on the sofa. Her body was heavy in its languor and her normally-racing mind pleasantly numb—it took effort to bring herself back to the realm of conscious thought. “What hints?”

“This is the third time he’s asked us to let Sarada stay over in these past two weeks.”

One of his hands started carding through her hair. Sakura snuggled into the touch, her arm wrapping around his waist.

“What’s so suspicious about that?” Sasuke had a tendency towards seeing connections and conspiracies where others did not. Sometimes, he was right. But not always.

“He keeps _smiling_ at me every time I come by his house to drop her off. And if he keeps _winking_ like that whenever he talks about giving us a night off, it’s going to become a nervous habit.”

“Possibly.” Sakura smiled into his shoulder. She knew the face he was speaking of.

Sasuke continued. “He needs to learn to keep out of our business.”

“I might agree, if you would tell me how he was invading it in the first place.”

“You mean you have not heard his innuendo? His comments about our ‘big house’ and ‘so many empty rooms’?”

“…No?” Awake now, and more than a little confused, Sakura lifted her head to get a better look at her husband. “What does he mean?”

Sasuke huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose and leaned his head back over the armrest.

“ _What?_ Are you getting a nosebleed?”

“Very funny, Sakura.” He stared off at the wall. “You really haven’t heard anything?”

Sakura smirked a little at his bafflement, though she knew he couldn’t see her. She crossed her arms and rested her chin upon them, studying the column of his throat.

“I can’t say I have. Of course, I have a hospital to run and I don’t spend half the amount of time with him that you do. So stop stringing it out and tell me what Naruto’s been bothering you about.”

Sasuke sighed.

“He’s been pushing for us to have another kid.”

While Sakura absorbed this new information, he lifted his head back up and shifted to a more comfortable position. Sakura also moved with him, sitting up to better face him.

Sakura shook her head, trying to make facts rattle into a coherent order.

“He wants us to have another baby?”

“Yes.”

“Because Hinata-chan’s pregnant again?”

Sasuke shrugged. “I would assume so.”

“And he’s been giving us these nights off…”

“In the hopes that we would start making Sarada a sibling. Yes.”

“ _Ugh_.” Sakura groaned, rubbing at her eyes. Naruto’s ribbing about their sex life was not, strictly speaking, unusual (though _highly_ discouraged), but the fact he was actively encouraging it was a little disturbing. “Well that’s _lovely_.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I’m going to have a talk with him.” She muttered, collapsing against his body again.

She could _feel_ his smirk. “Be my guest.”

“It isn’t just nosy, it’s downright _stupid_. He _knows_ how busy we are. Just because we’re alone doesn’t mean we’ll immediately jump into bed. Frankly, I’ll be impressed if we make it off this couch.”

Sasuke grunted his assent as she resettled herself against him.

“It has been a long week,” he said. His hand resumed its stroking through her hair.

“It has.”

They lay in a comfortable silence.

“…To be fair to Naruto, giving us the night off is still a very sweet gesture. We haven’t really had much time at home for ourselves.”

“Hn.”

“Don’t be like that. It almost makes me feel bad about how we keep sneaking around in his office.”

He snorted, amused. “And sneaking around the hospital doesn’t?”

“Hey, that’s _my_ place. My domain, my rules.” She raised her head and pulled herself forward, pressing a lazy kiss against his lips. “Still, might as well not waste the opportunity. Without the actual baby-making, mind you.”

She kissed him again, a little deeper. He responded, the hand in her hair sliding down to cup the back of her neck, the other sneaking around her waist.

“I thought you were tired?” he asked when she drew back again. There was a slightly mocking tilt to his smile, which she graciously chose to ignore.

“We’ll go slow.”


	5. "It's not what it looks like." Fugaku said.

Mikoto thought that the distinctive orange cover meant the book was _exactly_ what it looked like. That it was _his_ book that he actually _brought_ on their first date in the very same bag in which they were keeping their picnic—not at all. Clearly, someone was having a laugh at a flustered Fugaku’s expense.

Curious despite herself, she picked it up and flipped through a few pages.

It took some persuasion for him to join her, but the resulting mockery was delightful enough for Mikoto to pronounce their date a complete success—though the _why_ of it would remain her secret, lest someone misunderstood and rumor spread that Fugaku Uchiha enjoyed reading porn in his spare time.


	6. Reika was growing to be such an amazing little toddler.

No one in the family was quite sure when she started walking. There was notransition period between crawling on all fours to suddenly toddling upright aroundthe house, able to use her hands for a thousand new nefarious purposes. Evenmore alarming, she was determined not only to walk but run, without quite understanding the need to slow down.

Though he shared his parents’ concern, Sasuke didn’t mind too much that she was running. Because now whenever he entered the house, he would hear the quick tapping of her feet that preceded her shriek of “ _Aniki!_ ” as she came up to him, her little arms outstretched, wanting to welcome him home as quickly as possible.


	7. Reika wants to spend time with sakura.

She’ll wander into Sasuke’s room (the door left open because Mikoto insists, even though _nothing is happening_ ), dragging her blankie, wanting nothing more than to sit on Sakura’s lap. If they are in his room, they are only talking, and her presence is no distraction. Sakura will cuddle her close, play with her arms and pause in her conversations with Sasuke to rain kisses all over Reika’s face, provoking happy giggles.

If Reika is awake enough, she might interrupt them to ask Sakura basic questions about why things are the way things are.

One day, Sasuke tells her, offhand, that Reika wants to call her _nee-chan_.


	8. prompt: baby crushes

_"fic drop: ne, ne, mikoto," kushina whispers. they are watching an interesting scene unfold in the uchiha's living room: reika showing her new books to sakura and naruto starting a fight with a bored sasuke (but to kushina's eyes, naruto just doesn't have sasuke's attention at the moment.) "i guess reika-chan is not the only one fond of sakura-chan, ne?"_

* * *

Mikoto looks askance at her friend. “Are you speaking for your son or for mine?”

Like Kushina, she keeps her voice low; though they probably would not be overheard in this racket anyway.

“Naruto hasn’t had a crush on Sakura in years,” says Kushina, hands waving as if she were shooing the notion away. “He likes someone new every month. I think right now it’s the Yamanaka girl.”

They watch as Sasuke ducks Naruto’s latest swing and scoots over to where his sister and Sakura sit, poring over Reika’s fairytales. Reika points at the pictures, reciting scrambled versions of the stories back to Sakura, who listens with great patience.

“Sasuke-kun, on the other hand…” Kushina slants a sly look at Mikoto, much like the creature for which her body is a vessel. “He keeps _hovering_ around her. Even more than usual. Have you noticed?”

Mikoto sips her tea and considers her response. This is a delicate matter. She suspects they might actually be dating already; Sakura comes over enough on her own time. Even with all the time spent playing with Reika, who adores Sakura, the couple still manages to disappear together for hours at a time. And that if one was only counting her visits _to_ the compound; who knew what went on outside of it. But even so, she has heard no gossip, which means that if they are dating, they are keeping it a secret for now.

And as much as Mikoto loves to tease Sasuke, she is disinclined to discuss his feelings when he has not come forth with them himself. Her son is wonderful and probably loves Sakura very much. But he is also given to impulsive actions and she does not want to think about the fallout if news of his fledgling romance got out before he was ready.

Mikoto turns back to Kushina.

“I don’t think it is my place to say, Kushina.”

Kushina pouts. “Don’t be like that! I tell you everything that goes on with Naruto, don’t I?”

A loud exclamation diverts their attention back to their children. Naruto has appropriated one of Reika’s books and is now reading it aloud, in a silly voice with sillier faces. He tries to persuade Sasuke to join him—Sakura seconds the notion. Reika crawls over to sit in Sasuke’s lap, loudly voicing her approval of the idea. Faced by three forces of nature: his best friend, his crush (girlfriend?) and his baby sister, Sasuke is forced to accede, though he protests loudly at being the one to voice the princess. Again, he is shouted down. Face scarlet, he starts reading his part. Naruto laughs like a little demon, but both Reika and Sakura listen attentively.

Mikoto smiles apologetically at her friend’s visible disappointment. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know. Sasuke is such a shy boy—if he’s not ready to talk about it I don’t want to scare him.”

Kushina growls, crossing her arms and looking away. “Well, don’t come crying to me when they end up _marrying_ without telling anyone about it.”

“My boy is shy,” says Mikoto serenely. “Not stupid.”


	9. writer/editor au

“How long have you been writing romances?”

Sakura looked up from her phone, paused in the act of entering their next appointmentinto her calendar. Behind his desk, Sasuke didn’t seem to be watching her withany greater intensity than usual, but there was definitely something…anticipatory in the way he was very much not looking at her.

Ah.

So he had found them.

“Since I was fourteen,” she said lightly. She finished typing and slipped the phone back into her pocket. “Started with fan fiction and a couple really terrible original stories. Want to read them?”

Sasuke just gave her a Look, the one usually reserved for when he came across two am plot twists or the inadvertent innuendoes. Three years of working together had left Sakura with a very thorough understanding (and, if she was being honest, _appreciation_ ) of his body language.

“ _Not_ what I was talking about.” He tapped a few keys and turned his laptop around to face Sakura, folded his hands, and waited.

Sakura leaned forward, admiring the list of titles listed under her pseudonym. She really needed to remember to thank Sai for making such beautiful cover art.

“How did you find them?” she asked. “You hate self-published work and you don’t read romance. Unless, of course, you’ve been hiding something…”

Sasuke didn’t rise to the bait, though the corner of his mouth flickered briefly upwards. “Karin wants to expand the variety of genres we represent. She gave me recommendations to read so that I could get an idea of what she wants. Your pseudonym was underlined twice.”

“ _Flattering_. But how could you know it was me?”

He gave her that Look again. “You have a very distinctive voice.”

Sakura laughed. “Good to know, though I was hoping it would be less obvious. Romance requires a more graceful touch than dystopic science fiction.”

“It does,” he agreed. “I doubt most who have read one body of your work would strictly recognize the other. We’ve just spent too much time together.”

There was enough warmth in his voice that Sakura looked away, mentally counted to ten and hoped her blush wasn’t too prominent. Once certain that she would not make a fool of herself, she turned back to him.

“Well,” she said, dragging out the word. “…What did you think?”

She had often toyed with the idea of telling him about her self-published work, but usually just the image of Sasuke Uchiha reading _her_ romances was enough to shatter her resolve.

“They’re not bad,” he admitted, leaning back in his chair. “I enjoyed them more than I expected. Your characters are well drawn and their relationships are appealing. They are…fun.”

Sakura fought back a pleased smirk. “I’m glad to hear it.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “They were also more explicit than what I thought you were willing to do.”

Sakura’s good mood abruptly nosedived. She swallowed. Right. She had forgotten about that.

“I wanted to keep a few secrets,” she said, voice a little too high.

“It’s a compliment.”

“I know.” She fiddled with an earring. “Which ones did you read?”

“All of them.”

“… _All_ of them?”

_Fuck._

Sakura was not ashamed of writing romance novels, or even really having Sasuke see them. Nervous, perhaps, because his opinion was important, but never ashamed. However, she started writing them before she signed on with Konoha, and she wrote the novels for herself or her friends. In the last couple of years, she found that many of her heroes borrowed little habits or lines or gestures from Sasuke; details only the embarrassingly enamored might notice. Details that Sasuke, with his eye for such things, could recognize.

In one or two books, they might slip by unchecked.

In her backlist of seven…

Well, the pieces of Sasuke she might have scattered, intentionally or not, could very well form a whole picture that she had no interest in showing him.

“Are you still writing under that name?”

She nodded.

“Well, for future reference, you are always welcome to talk to me about them.”

Sakura blinked. “Excuse me?”

Now it was Sasuke who had to look away. “Your romances. This isn’t within the usual bounds of our contract, but if you are ever interested in hearing my input—”

“No, that’s great,” interrupted Sakura. “I just don’t know why you would want to.”

He shrugged. “I like seeing how you work. Besides, you might need someone to challenge some of your more…interesting details.”

Sakura grinned, not bothering to hide her delight. “I’ll have you know that having the accountant turn out to be a dragon was inspired.”

“…I can’t say I disagree.”


	10. sakura, naruto fake relationship au

“We could have pet names,” says Naruto. “That might help.”

Sakura can feel a muscle under her eye _twitching_. She takes a deep breath to calm down. Naruto, she reminds herself, really needs the favor.

“No pet names,” she says, planting her feet and crossing her arms and looking up at her ‘boyfriend’ and radiating as much authority as she can possibly possess. “This needs to look _realistic_.”

From where he is lying stretched out on her dorm room bed, Sasuke gives a disdainful snort. Sakura and Naruto both turn to scowl at him.

“Do you have something you need to say, Sasuke-kun?” asks Sakura, her voice dripping poison-sweet. 

“Seriously, teme,” Naruto crosses his arms as well, though he doesn’t look nearly as intimidating as Sakura. “Any advice?”

Sasuke very clearly and obviously rolls his eyes before responding.

“Just figure out what kind of couple you would be.”

“Which would be what, exactly?” demands Naruto.

“Completely unsuited, obviously.”

“ _Sasuke-kun_.”

“Teme, relax, I’m just borrowing your secret girlfriend for a while.”

Sasuke merely tuts and returns to brooding.

“Aaand he’s being useless,” Naruto shakes his head in mock disappointment before suddenly perking up.“Actually, we could totally be one of those cute couples that fight all the time. That could be fun!”

“ _Naruto_.”

” _Sakura-chan._ “ Naruto whirls around to face her again, looking genuinely distressed. "I don’t have many ideas!”

Sakura sighs. “Don’t worry, I’m going to help you. But why did you tell your family you were bringing your girlfriend? Why did you tell them you _have_ a girlfriend in the first place?”

“You’ve heard me talk about my mom,” defends Naruto. “She is _relentless_. And she’s already told _everyone_ we know that I’m bringing someone. It was on the invitations. I had no choice!”

Sakura drags her hand down her face. "Couldn’t I just be your date for this stupid reception thing? Do I _really_ have to be your girlfriend?”

"For the party for my dad’s reelection campaign? Yes.”

“And afterwards we can forget it ever happened?”

“Well…”

Naruto laughs nervously as both Sakura and Sasuke turn to stare at him with identical expressions of disbelief. 

“Naruto…”

“Dobe…”

Naruto holds up his hands as if he can ward them off. “Look, since Ino and I are the only ones who know that you and teme are dating anyways, it might be a good idea to keep this up a little _longer_ …”

He quails under the force of their combined glares.

"At least until all the election is over!” he protests. “Come on, it’s going to be a nightmare.”

“You know what?” Sakura takes out her phone and starts dialing Ino’s number. “This is not going to work. I’m calling backup.”


	11. librarian/avid reader au

He is not quite sure how, but he has taken up correspondence of a kind over the last couple of months with one of the patrons in his library. Somehow, one recommendation became many, one thank you letter into several, and now here they are, settled into a strange sort of routine.

He works there everyday, so there is no worry of him missing her. She is at the library twice a week: at six on Wednesdays for a half hour and again on Fridays from two to five. 

Wednesdays are for returning books she borrowed the week before and browsing the movie selection. She returns most books through the slot on the outside of the building, save for one that she brings to the front desk instead. 

It refuses to go through, she always tells him. Occasionally, this is true. Mostly, it’s an excuse so that when he takes the book from her, he knows that it is the one he offered five days ago, and that when he thumbs through the pages, there will be a handwritten note, one that he tucks into his pocket for later perusal.

Sometimes the notes are elegant in their praise: in the beauty of the prose, the intricacies of the characters.

Other times she simply scrawls _FUCK THAT GUY_ across the top of the paper, with unflattering descriptions of said characters (or even the author if her anger is particularly virulent) included so that he will not be confused.

It always makes him smile.

At the bottom of every note, she includes a recommendation of her own. Her taste is both eclectic and very similar to his own, though she has no trouble unearthing works he has not yet read, such as _Orlando Furioso_ or _The Book of Flying_.

Fridays are the days she fills her backpack with books. Some of the lighter works she will sit and enjoy without actively checking them out, but she is also remarkably picky. He will see her curled up in one of the armchairs, the table at her elbow piled with volumes, but by the time she goes to checkout she has thinned them down to ten or less. 

It is onto this stack he will place the recommendation she gave him, his note inside, nine days after she first gave it. 

He does not watch for what she does with the note, but he knows she goes back into the stacks to find the book he has thought of for her.

They do have proper conversations, brief as they are when he is working and her interest in sitting there is to slip away into other worlds. He knows her name, that she is contemplating postdoc studies and that she has a very frustrating roommate. She knows his name, that his family is close but complicated and many details about his rambunctious best friend.

This Friday, he apologizes and tells her that the book he was going to recommend had to be ordered from another branch, and will not be in until tomorrow.

She nods and smiles in understanding. She tells him that she spends her Saturdays studying in the Starbucks two blocks east. 

She says she likes the atmosphere, how easy it is to focus on her work. If he has nothing to do, he could bring the book there; it is a wonderful place to read.

She says she never minds company.

He considers, and asks what time she would like to meet.


	12. one night stand and falling pregnant au

“You’re pregnant?” Sasuke repeats, his gaze fixed on hers, too frozen to look away. Sakura has never seen him this shocked before and it is doing nothing for her own jitters.

“I am,” she affirms, wiping her damp hands on her shorts. Her parents are out, she and Sasuke are in her room with the flowery bedspread and teddy bear she’s had since she was six, they are twenty-two and she is _pregnant_.

Sasuke brings his hand to his face and takes a deep breath. Four counts in, four counts out. Like he always does.

“Do you know what happened?” he asks, not quite composed, but calm enough that she knows he won’t be jumping out her window to escape this reality and that comforts her, at least. “We used protection when we, uh…”

He trails off, blushing, and oh god if he still blushes when he talks about them having sex and she still thinks of That Night with capitals how are mature enough to be _parents_?

Actually, _how_ is she going to tell her parents?

…How are they going to tell _his_ parents, with the noble clan and being out-of-wedlock and the expectations and oh _god_ -

This isn’t how it was supposed to go. Years of dancing around each other, with her childhood crush and firm friendship through their teens and now this tentative new relationship they were finally, _finally_ beginning was not supposed to include anything like a baby _this soon_. 

Granted, the burgeoning relationship was kickstarted by spending the night together in the aftermath of a particularly difficult mission. But apart from adrenaline, no extra substances were involved and they were able to talk calmly the next morning about where they wanted to go.

That had been good. 

In fact, the past two months have been _incredibly_ good, complicated as it is to figure how they work as a couple when both have little relationship experience and very busy schedules. For the sake of navigating those complications, they have not had sex since that first night. 

They were trying to be careful. They have not been stupid.

And yet here they are.

“I don’t know what happened,” says Sakura. She reaches out and hooks two fingers around his thumb, draws him in a little closer. “But I’ve taken two tests. Both were positive. This is real, we’re here now, and we need to figure out what to do." 

Sasuke sighs, and moves to sit with her on her bed. Sakura shifts to make room and is only a little startled when he pulls her into his arms, leans them both back against the headboard.

"I’m here,” he says into her hair. “Whatever you want.”

She can feel his heartbeat hammering at her back, and relaxes, leaning back so her head rests in the crook of his neck and shoulder. 

He’s here. They can work it out.


	13. fugamiko, teacher/single parent au

“You almost got me in trouble at work today,” says Mikoto when she comes home that evening.

Fugaku folds down his newspaper, watching her as she makes her way to the kitchen, dropping her bag on the counter. “How did I manage that? It took barely five minutes to drop off Itachi.”

“It’s elementary school: it doesn’t take five minutes to find trouble. You also gave me a kiss, quite unexpectedly, if you don’t recall,” Mikoto reminds him. She snags a cup of peach yogurt out of the refrigerator and climbs over the arm of the sofa (good thing Itachi is currently down for his nap: he might wonder why he is forbidden to do the same thing) to curl up into his side.

“A peck,” corrects Fugaku. “Hardly indecent.”

“I would agree and would not be opposed to more in the future. However, apparently some of the other parents saw that little display and it, well, _concerned_ them.”

“Concerned them?” Fugaku rolls his eyes. “ _Everything_ concerns them, from the stories you tell me.”

“Oh, it was not the affection, it was the idea that I was carrying on an indiscreet romance with the father of one of my students.”

“…They do know I’m your husband, don’t they?”

"Actually, they didn’t,” says Mikoto. She pauses, clearly relishing the look of absolute disbelief on Fugaku’s face. 

“What?”

“It was _ridiculous_. Apparently, they did not realize we are married.”

“How– _You have my last name._ And what about Itachi?”

“He calls me Miss Mikoto like everyone else. I am not sure if he’s embarrassed or he just likes keeping a secret. Anyways, that means the parents haven’t really picked up on it: they’re too concerned with their own kids to think about it too much.”

“I suppose. But the principal, at least—”

Mikoto places the empty yogurt cup and spoon on the wooden coffee table and lets herself slump against Fugaku, her head on his shoulder.

“The principal cleared up the whole matter,” says Mikoto around a yawn. “Don’t go after her.” She smirks at him, amused. “Actually, she suggested to me afterwards that the parents brought it up as much out of disappointment as any sense of impropriety.”

Fugaku just stares down at her. 

“Disappointment?”

“Mm. They thought you were a sexy single dad worth chatting up.”

“… _Why?_ " 

"You’re punctual, good-looking and wear a suit. Plus, Itachi talks about you all the time to the parents who help out. That being said, you could stand to come to a few more events—that’s probably the reason no one noticed that I’m married.”

“Or you could just wear your wedding ring.”

“Around thirty squealing five-year-olds? Who I’m constantly fishing out of mud and paint and toilets? No thank you. A better question would be: why don’t you wear yours?”

“…I’m allergic to the gold, remember? My hand swelled up so much we thought we needed to clip the ring right off?”

Mikoto laughs. “I’m teasing. But seriously, I think you are now officially conscripted to help out at the Halloween festival next Saturday. We can clarify everything then.”

Fugaku groans, bringing up his hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “I suppose that would be sensible. Do I have to wear a costume?”

“Afraid so,” chirps Mikoto. “I already picked out your character, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

“…I see. Who will I be?”

“Frankenstein!”

Fugaku just groans.

“That is exactly right. You’ll be perfect!”


	14. doctor/companions au

Sasuke Uchiha is an ideal companion. He has good judgment,does what he’s told, and when she tells him to stay put, stays put.

Usually.

When he isn’t, he is the worst companion Sakura has ever hadthe misfortune to take along.

“EXTERMINATE!”

“You woke up a fleet of Daleks!” shrieks Sakura as they pelt down the corridor of a particularly enormous spaceship. “An actual _fleet_. Are you insane?”

For instance, as the last scion to a planet destroyed during the Time War, he has a tendency to be a little trigger happy where Daleks were concerned.

“I thought I locked the door,” snaps Sasuke.

“Locked the—yes because _of course_ that works against Daleks!” Sakura shakes her head in disgust. “An alien race born for war and you think _closing the door_ will work!”

“When they are trapped inside an engine room that’s on fire? _Yes!_ ”

The ship tilts sharply (probably because its engine is on fire) and Sakura throws her arms out to keep from crashing into the sides of the hallway. She levers herself off the wall and keeps running.

“And let me guess, you set the engine room on fire?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. The Daleks did that.”

They turn a sharp left. Now _this_ part of the ship looks more familiar.

“Well you can’t blame me for asking, what with all the fire-breathing you do.” This is why she prefers human companions: they have less of a tendency to manifest weird powers.

…usually.

“It’s not fire-breathing, it’s called—”

“Just—use those special eyes of yours and tell me where my TARDIS is!” Sakura, very willing to believe that Sasuke might actually lecture her on his family traits even as they are running for their lives, cuts him off.

“They are called Sharingan and that’s not how they work! That’s the Byakugan!”

If she wasn’t still running, Sakura would be tearing out her hair in frustration.

“Why didn’t I keep _Neji?_ ”

Sasuke snorts, even as he dodges one of the many beams of light shooting towards them. “Please. Hyuuga used every reflective surface as a mirror. Believe me, life as a warrior queen’s consort suits him better. Also, if we turn here the TARDIS should be at the end of that hallway.”

They make another turn and end up down a much narrower corridor. The Daleks will take some time to catch up, but if Sasuke’s wrong they are sitting ducks.

He is not wrong. There is a very familiar door at the end, with a slit window, and she can see the deep blue of her beloved TARDIS behind it.

The door, of course, is also sealed.

“Stand back,” says Sakura, unhooking a collapsible axe from her belt.

“We don’t have much time,” says Sasuke, as if she can’t hear the “EXTERMINATES” growing louder and louder behind them.

“You are _so_ lucky you’re pretty,” growls Sakura, and slams her sonic axe into the keypad.


	15. a world where their love is taboo au + exes reuniting au

She remembers what it feels like to be undressed before him. 

The chill of his room, prickling the fine hairs of her body. Feeling both boldand vulnerable in her nakedness. Being warmed by the look in his eyes. Him alsonaked, reaching out and pulling her close, to bring them both to the bed.

She remembers how they moved together. How she nearly kicked him off the bed when he accidently tickled the back of her knees. The first time she was undressed by him, squirming as he teased her, whether by hiking up her skirt to roll down her stockings or stroking her breasts through her loosened blouse. When she stripped him, sliding off his belt, peeling open his shirt and pressing kisses from the pulse at his neck down to his belly. Hearing his voice roughen the more intimately she touched him.

The flush that rises under her skin at the sight of him is perhaps understandable, though she wishes that seven years were enough to cool any lingering ardor.

Seven years of remembering. Of memories that have both kept her warm and torn her apart, as tensions have grown and crested in Konoha between the different gangs that eye each other for territory. While she was forced to watch the body count rise, to stitch up friends as they stumble through her front door. When Tsunade warned her that if Sasuke ever returns to their territory, he will be shot on sight.

Still, the first time he darkens her doorstep in seven years it is not as an enemy, but a potential ally. Sakura’s apartment is on the border between Uzumaki and Subaku turf; Subaku is neutral territory for both Families. It is through there that Sasuke crosses to negotiate with Sakura on behalf of the Uchiha.

It is not the same apartment, but with him sitting at her dining room table, the same furniture and serving him tea with cups from the same set, it might as well be. She has to remind herself that he is not here as an old friend but as a professional, aiming to get the best compromise for his side.

Even now with the potential for peace so near, the wariness she still feels around him now has not lessened, nor has a particular creeping, oily sensation she cannot shake off. Perhaps it is insubstantiality. Of knowing that clothes and weapons and a calm face do not serve as armor against him the way they do for others, for he knows the clasps too well.

At the very least, Sasuke does not hold their affair as ammunition in their talks: he has makes no slithering innuendoes, or done anything but treat her with the respect that the Uzumaki’s top negotiator commands.

She is not entirely sure why the last scion of the Uchiha is sent to negotiate in the first place. He is passionate and dedicated to the Family, certainly, but she might consider him too emotional to be negotiating for the organization ( _gang_ is a simplification, really) his family built. He is suspicious; his gun never leaves his side during their meetings and there are probably other weapons that Sakura will not know of until they are needed. The knowledge he is so armed does not bother her. Her gun is strapped to her leg and there is a stiletto that keeps her elegantly knotted hair in place, and this is _her_ ground. She will not be bested here.

But she finds him willing to listen, to compromise, and Sakura thinks that the years of conflict may finally be at an end.

But—

Seven years was not enough time to fall out of love for her, and she wonders about him.

She catches him looking at her when she is looking at their lists of terms and negotiations, cobbling together a compromise to satisfy both their Families, to see what will stick. He snatches his hand back from their accidental brushes as quickly as she does. She recognizes his tells: the drumming of his fingers on the wood when he is frustrated, his refusal to meet her eye, his crossed arms.

The air is heavy and thick and it is hard to speak the right words, sometimes, and not for the reasons words would be difficult to find here.

It will be, she realizes, a difficult reconciliation.


	16. sakura week: a kiss with a fist

> ## "You must study the anatomy of a punch,  
> For there are so many ways to break yourself.  
> Either through a bad form:   
> Don’t tuck your thumb under your fingers,  
> Or when you aim:  
> A beginner should not go for the jaw  
> Try for the stomach and make him lose his breath  
> Always twist your hips to maximize your power  
> But above all, do not be afraid to scream  
> To stoke the fire to your blood  
> And strike fear into the hearts of those  
> Who cannot stop you"


	17. team 7 prompt: genin team 7 saved a fortune teller. In return, the old lady told them their future.

For Sakura:

_“Your name and deeds will be sung throughout the land.”_

For Naruto:

_“You will build the family you always craved.”_

For Sasuke:

_“You will find the happiness you seek when you open your heart to your true love.”_

The old woman does not wait to see the children’s reactions, bidding them farewell with a slight bow they only barely remember to return. She closes the forest green door of her little house and Team Seven is left, blinking, among the violets in her front yard.

Naruto wonders if the fortuneteller mixed them up, since it is his goal to be the best ninja in world, not Sakura’s. Sakura punches him for it, though without heat; the motion more rote than anything else. Her mind is too far away; though only a small part is concerned by Sasuke’s fortune and the question of a future rival. The rest of her instead thrums with an unexpected excitement at the idea that she should grow so renowned. Inner Sakura agrees: cheering _hell yeah_ and smacking her fist into her palm, with fire in her eyes. 

Naruto yelps at the contact and makes a show of nursing his shoulder; but secretly the idea of a family fills him with warmth. Besides, he tells himself, that is part of the Hokage’s job: taking care of the village as though it is a family.

And Sasuke-

Sasuke turns away, intent on returning to the road.

“We need to be going,” he says, ignoring their calls for him to slow down, so that neither will see the flush that spread across his face at the fortuneteller’s prediction. If they do, they might guess the face that formed in his mind’s eye, rousing feelings which, despite his best intentions, allows him to hope that such a life will be possible, after.


	18. teacher/student au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it turns out, trying everything at least once can yield valuable results. Even when it’s pole dancing.

One of these days, Sasuke was going to learn not to make bets with Naruto, especially when the bet in question involved vodka.

And more importantly, neither of them should bet again Ino Yamanaka.

(He’s pretty sure she cheated. How someone that petite could outdrink both of them, he had no scientific idea.)

At least the resulting favor was not too harsh: attend the first three lessons her best friend was giving at a local dance studio. She was just getting started, and Ino wanted to give her a boost.

Now—

What Ino had not mentioned was that it was a _pole dance studio_.

“No.”

“Sasuke—” Naruto wrapped an arm around Sasuke’s shoulders and with no small amount of determination, pulled him through the door. “Remember, we _have_ to do this. Or Ino gets to borrow your car for the next two weeks.”

“Remind me again why you bet _my_ car?”

“She didn’t want mine. But don’t worry. I mean, we’re just going to be swinging around a pole. It’ll be like when we pretended to be firemen.”

“What are you talking about?” Sasuke looked around the studio they had entered. Like the dance studios his mother frequented when he and his brother were still young, this one had a clean wooden floor and a wall of full length mirrors—the only difference being the two rows of pole installations. “I’m in training, and so far, we haven’t _climbed_ any poles. Slid down them, sure. Not climbed.”

Naruto gave a shrug. “Eh, either way. It’s not like it’s going to be that hard.”

Sasuke rolled his eyes. “Don’t jinx it.”

“Bastard, _relax_. Besides,” added Naruto, lowering his voice. “Check that out.”

There were eight poles in the studio—not very many. Ino had said the studio would be tiny. Half of them were already occupied by girls around their own age. All of them were climbing, spinning, and dangling from the poles in a manner that suggested that such twisting and balancing was as natural as breathing to them. Many had eschewed their shirts, wearing only dance shorts and sports bras.

The particular girl that Naruto was unsubtly gesturing at was high up on her pole—her right leg against the pole supporting her (though Sasuke couldn’t tell _how_ ) while her right arm reached around and behind the pole to grasp her opposite foot, bringing it up into a connected circle. Her other arm extended forward, like she was reaching for something.

Naruto whistled. “How is she _doing_ that?”

Sasuke shrugged, though he had to admit—the flexibility and strength it took to stay in that pose was impressive.

“I think that would be Sakura,” said Sasuke.

“Really?”

“Who else in here has pink hair?”

The girl looked over at them— Sasuke looked away, suddenly feeling awkward, though Naruto gave a cheerful little wave. There was a light thud, the sound of feet hitting the ground, and when Sasuke looked over again she was walking over to them, a cheerful smile on her lips.

“Hi! Ino’s friends, right?”

Naruto nodded, grinning. “I’m Naruto. This bastard here is Sasuke.”

“Nice to meet you. Sakura Haruno.” She extended her hand; both Naruto and Sasuke shook in turn. Her grip was strong, her gaze very direct, and Sasuke felt some of his irritation recede.

“Thanks for coming,” she said. “Even if it is just for a bet.”

“We wouldn’t back out,” said Sasuke. “Though it doesn’t look like you need our help getting customers,” Looking around, Sasuke saw that more girls had come in while they were talking, and nearly all of the poles were now occupied—some even had two.

Sakura shrugged. “Those are my friends. They’ve been going here for as long as I have. They aren’t really students. I need to get feedback about how effective my teaching is for absolute beginners.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be great!” promised Naruto. Sakura beamed at him, buoyed.

“Thank you!”

“How long have you been doing this?” asked Sasuke.

Sakura cocked her head to the side. “About four years now? I started as an undergrad. It’s really good for your arms.”

She flexed her bicep, to emphasize the point. Sasuke nearly caught himself smiling.

“Well, you got us!” said Naruto, slapping his chest for added emphasis. “Absolute beginners, right here! I can’t guarantee that Sasuke will be any good at moving his hips.”

He smacked Sasuke for emphasis, in a place that was in Sasuke’s opinion a little too far down. He jumped, and glared at Naruto, who quickly stepped out of punching range.

Sakura giggled.

“Don’t worry. You can shake your hips if you want, or if I tell you to. And,” Her face grew very stern. “Don’t forget, you are here to learn. I know it’s sexy—believe me, that’s a big part of the appeal—but this studio is a safe space. If I catch making any of the girls uncomfortable in _any_ way, I will call you out and if I have to, bodily throw you out of this studio. _Got it?_ ”

She looked utterly terrifying.

This time, Sasuke did not bother to hide his smirk.

“You have nothing to worry about from us,” he said. Naruto squeaked something like assent, suitably cowed.

Sakura smiled at them, claws again sheathed. “Excellent! Now, I’m going to need you to sign some disclosure forms first.”

“Disclosure?”

She nodded. “To show that you signed up fully cognizant of the risks and will not sue either me or the studio if you get injured or killed.”

“Joy,” muttered Sasuke.

–

It turned out; pole dancing was not what Sasuke expected.

Not that he ever thought it would be easy, but he was in good shape and he had thought that the worst he would have to worry about was looking ridiculous.

First of all, it was less of a dance class than a fitness class. The warm up routine alone involved more crunches, leg lifts and mountain climbers than he had done in years.

He wasn’t even going to talk about the splits, which he did not even bother to try.

(Naruto _did_ try. He abandoned the attempt almost immediately.)

Or the handstands against the wall, which Sakura claimed was to help them get a better feel for balance and, well, getting on the pole.

(He did try those. They were fine, though Naruto wobbled dangerously besides him.)

The warmups took up nearly half the class. Sakura insisted that they needed to be as warm as possible before they started learning any moves.

“Trust me,” she said. “You do not want to get injured in pole.”

Probably, Sasuke realized, because it was already going to hurt, no matter what they tried.

The fireman’s climb was the first one she taught them. It was the most basic pole climb there was, she said, but Sasuke could not for the life of him determine why it had that name. The movement seemed more like a caterpillar or an inchworm. For all of Naruto’s crowing about how _he_ should be able to master this move, _easy_ , Sasuke couldn’t see it. It felt very uncomfortable; he had to raise himself up by pressing his right shin against the pole so that his ankle and knee were on opposite sides of the pole, and he had to bring up his left leg to cross in front of the pole. All while keeping a tight grip with both hands. Then you had to keep levering yourself up and start climbing from this squat to a stand, bringing your legs back up into that crossed position, and _then_ back into a stand.

Sasuke felt ridiculous. And like his ass was sticking out.

“Well, you _are_ sticking your ass out,” said Sakura, watching from the ground.

Apparently he had said that aloud. He looked down at her. She had her arms crossed and was studying his form, perfectly clinically, but it still made him feel self-conscious.

“What you are trying to do is to grip with your knees,” said Sakura. “So your body is far apart enough from the pole so that you can bring yourself to a stand. Get into a stand for me.”

Sasuke obeyed, pulling himself up so that he was stretched full out on the pole, supported by the grip he had on the pole between his knees.

She shook her head. “Not like that. You’re relying on your arms to pull yourself up too much. Try again. Bring up your legs as high as you can, then use that to help push yourself up again. Use your core.”

“How frustrating,” commented the girl with buns on the pole directly across from him. She was upside down and attached to the pole solely by the crook of her right knee, both of her hands grasping her left ankle in something Sakura called an ‘Extreme Scorpio’, looking perfectly comfortable.

She grinned up at Sasuke. “You men and your stupid upper body strength.”

Considering that the girl had previously done something Sakura called a Bullet Spin into another move called a Superman (at least that name he could understand), Sasuke felt the comment was rather unwarranted. If he tried for that level of flexibility…

Well.

Let’s just say he wouldn’t.

Sasuke kept climbing, this time following Sakura’s advice. He could do it—but the clenching of muscles was unfamiliar, it was entirely likely that he would not be able to get up tomorrow morning.

Naruto, having already reached the top of his pole (Sasuke suspected that he cheated with his arms), slid his way back down.

There was a horrible squealing sound.

“Is the pole supposed to feel like it’s burning you on the way down?” asked Naruto, holding up his hands. Sasuke could see that his palms were red. “Also, I think I skilled the top of my foot hurts.”

“Try for a more controlled descent,” said Sakura, approaching Naruto’s pole and quickly climbing up to the top so she could demonstrate on the way down. “As for the foot: it happens. Trust me: when I got started, my entire shin was blue for weeks.”

Sasuke tapped the bells tied at the top of the pole and made his way back down, mindful of what he had heard about controlled descent.

“Good job,” said Sakura watching, and was it him or her gaze a little more appreciative than before?

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“For a recreation class, is remarkably self-punishing.” He said.

Sakura mirrored the gesture, crossing her arms. “So does martial arts, if what Ino tells me is true.”

“Point,” he said.

After the climb, she started them on spins. Those were not quite as punishing. They started with a fireman’s spin (again, Naruto snickered, and Sakura definitely smiled at Sasuke so that he was forced to look away), as well as a martini spin and something called a chair spin which involved only holding on with one hand.

It did not feel nearly as painful as the climbs. Naruto seemed especially taken with them, and Sakura, buoyed by his enthusiasm, showed him a few more complicated maneuvers to try. Sasuke did not ask for himself, but repeated the moves as well. She was a good teacher, and apart from the gentle teasing from the girl across from him (Tenten, he learned), none of the girls made fun of them, and would even occasionally call out helpful tips of their own.

To Sasuke’s own surprise, he was not having a bad time.

–

Inverts were similarly easy to execute, though Sasuke banged his foot into the pole the first few times he tried and Naruto did not quite grip tightly enough with his knees before letting go of the pole and nearly fell on his neck as a result, which elicited screams.

But that was nothing compared to the end of class, when Sakura tried to teach them how to pole sit.

“Naruto, I’m _so sorry_ ,” said Sakura, looking utterly devastated.

Naruto sat, hunched over on one of the chairs Sakura had hastily unfolded. Despite the fact he was sweating, and clearly in pain, he still managed to smile.

“Not your fault, Sakura,” he said, voice still unnaturally high.

“I told you to be careful,” said Sasuke.

“No, it’s my fault,” insisted Sakura. “My thigh grip slips too, sometimes, it just…”

“Not as much?” supplied Sasuke.

Sakura winced. “No. Though it does still hurt _a lot_.” She looked miserable. “I totally forgot to tell you to position the pole more between your knees, not so far up your thighs.”

“Relax, Sakura! I’ll be fine.”

“He will be,” agreed Sasuke. “You should see some of the shit he’s survived.”

Sakura managed a tiny smile at that, and sighed, shoulders slumping forward. “Not the best way to end a class though.”

“No. But he’ll live.”

“It was fun!” said Naruto, his voice a little closer to its usual tone. “Besides, you won’t get rid of us that quickly! We still have two more lessons to go!”

Sakura blinked, startled, looking between them. “Really? Three lessons?”

Sasuke shrugged. “That was part of the favor.”

She looked thoughtful as she regarded them, cocking her hip. “You do know if you do that you’ll be paying twenty-five dollars for three lessons?”

“What?” asked Sasuke blankly. Naruto made a similar questioning noise.

Sakura nodded. “Ino didn’t tell you? Five for the first. Ten for the next two.”

Sasuke raised an eyebrow. “That’s pretty steep.”

“It is if you go frequently. _However_ ,” she raised a finger. “If you get a stamp card, it would be thirty dollars, but it’s worth _five_ lessons. I recommend it; better deal overall.”

Naruto was nodding, but Sasuke snorted. “It’s still five lessons.”

“Come on, Sasuke,” said Naruto. “It’s twenty-five bucks for three lessons or thirty for five. And it’s not like you have any dates you need to pay for in the near future.”

“You say that now,” said Sasuke.

Naruto scowled in confusion. “What are you talking about, Bas—”

“What if I took you out instead?” Sasuke asked Sakura.

Sakura opened and closed her mouth. Then opened it again. And closed it again, looking thoughtful.

“Huh,” she said.

Naruto looked equally shocked. Then he started laughing his ass off.

“Really, Bastard, _really_?”

Sasuke ignored him.

“I’m not sure about the pole dancing, even if this wasn’t as painful as I expected—”

“Count your bruises and call me tomorrow.”

He smirked at her quip, though the twinging of muscles he was already feeling suggested there would be quite a few. “But I know I’d like to see you again.”

“You would still see me if you came to my lessons,” Sakura pointed out.

“But which one means I would see more of you: the date or the lessons?”

Sakura smirked. “Well, you have already seen _a lot_ of me.”

“Not what I meant.”

“I know. But you are probably not going to see _this much_ ,” she gestured at herself, “On a first date.”

“I don’t expect to,” conceded Sasuke. “But if we had a very good date, we would probably be seeing each other a lot more than just five times, right?”

Naruto was staring at him in complete disbelief.

“Bastard, _seriously?_ ”

They both ignored him. Sakura was openly smiling now.

“If you come to more of my lessons and took me on a date _afterwards_ ,” she said, both flirting and bargaining. “You would already have seen me six more times than if you take me on one date right now and it ends badly.”

Sasuke shook his head. “But then I would be spending money on both the lessons, which would be nearly twice the number I expected to attend, _and_ our date. And after five lessons with you I might be too sore to do anything.”

“Not if you let me pick our activity. I promise I would be _very_ gentle.”

Sasuke shrugged. “I don’t mind roughing it.”

Forgotten in the background, Naruto gagged in disgust.


	19. one of them trying to get the other off drugs au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's that fantasy au

If there was one thing the elves of the Uchiha forest knew, it was how to _party_.

The forests in which they dwelled contained many plants and flowers of unusual properties which, over the centuries, the Uchiha had perfected into a multitude of extremely potent spirits. And what were the point of such spirits without the right environment?

Naruto had been lost since his third goblet, whereupon he launched into an eloquent and moving ode to an elvish princess whose beauty far outstripped any in his sight (he did not quite notice that the maid he was gesturing towards was Sasuke’s brother). At which point Shisui had flicked his temple and the self-proclaimed Hero of the Realm slid gently under the table, unconscious, and there he still lay.

Kakashi, in the manner of wizards, had made himself scarce shortly after the first goblet. Just as well, he would probably hiccup bursts of flame otherwise.

And as it turned out, dwarves, despite Sakura’s insistence to the contrary, were not impervious to the effects of elvish wine.

…of course, ‘not impervious’ meant that she consumed nearly a full barrel’s worth before succumbing.

However, the more she consumed, the more easily she seemed to move among his kinsmen, wasting no time in getting herself accommodated. As strange a figure as she was, short and pink-haired and still in armor (the ax, at least, was mercifully out of reach), she told stories and boasted of histories with the best of them. Any coolness that might have first greeted her and her status as a dwarf quickly melted away as she matched wits to his cousins and friends, loudly deriding each other.

“I thought that the day we had a dwarf among us peacefully would have required at least two major wars and several prominent skirmishes,” remarked Sasuke’s brother, one of the most prominent scholars among the elves, coming up to Sasuke’s right side, also watching the enactment. “Nothing less, certainly. Not in a time of peace.”

“An ancient evil coming back from the dead isn’t motivation enough?” Sasuke asked, more than a little ironical.

Itachi took the jab in good humor, laughing softly. “You know what I mean, brother. For someone who has never been outside her own kind, she is remarkably at ease for being around so many of us. She cannot be very old—she does not even have her own beard yet.”

“She told me there’s human somewhere in her background,” said Sasuke, watching as Sakura tried to cajole Shisui up on the table with her to reenact The Victory of Redbraid.

Itachi raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I was not aware that such a match was possible.” He took another drink as they watched Shisui protest vigorously, but was unmatched not only by the glint in Sakura’s eye that she would not back down, but by the number of his kinsmen who chose to side with her, loudly cajoling him.

Sasuke shrugged. “I am learning not to doubt so much about the power of love.”

His dry tone sent his brother into laughing aloud, though still not so much as to distract their cousins from their game.

“I wonder that would mean for you, then,” he said, as if musing aloud. “Two races—it is possible for the offspring to be fertile. But three?”

Sasuke looked sharply over at his brother, who seemed like nothing but the picture of innocence. “What foolishness are you speaking of _now_?”

Itachi blinked as if confused. “Nothing of importance. Just idle speculation. Blame the wine.”

Sasuke resisted the urge to roll his eyes and took a long swig from his own cup.

“You are being surprisingly frivolous tonight,” said Sasuke, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Please don’t say such stupid things where Father might hear.”

“You know me better than that, dear brother. Besides, it seems that our parents have, ah, _retired early_.”

Itachi grimaced, which told Sasuke that enquiring further might not be wise.

A loud cheer drew their attention back to the crowded table as Shisui, caving to the pressure of his friends, went to match Sakura in pseudo combat and was summarily trounced: when he took a swipe she ducked, grabbed him by the arm and used his momentum to send him tumbling over her shoulder and off the table again.

Sasuke could not help but smile at her glee as she struck some absurd victory pose, slopping nearly half of her wine out of her goblet. Her cheeks were flushed, and when she caught his eye her grin only widened.

“Sasuke!” she called to him. “Why aren’t you this fun? Thanks to you, I thought all elves were just serious stick-in-the-muds!”

Sasuke smirked back, raising his goblet in a mock toast.

“ _Someone_ has to be sober enough to read the map,” he called.

Sakura jumped off the table—the elves surrounding her quickly shifting (and stumbling) out of her way. She swayed only a little on her landing.

“Naruto doesn’t get drunk,” she pointed out as she approached them, remarkably steady, despite the amount of alcohol consumed.

Sasuke just raised an eyebrow and gestured at Naruto under the table. Sakura followed the direction in which he gestured and winced.

“Or not. Powerful stuff, elvish alcohol. ” She locked eyes with him. He noted with some surprise how steady she was, considering what she had consumed.

Itachi murmured an excuse Sasuke did not hear, and slipped away again.

“You elves aren’t so bad,” Sakura continued, poking him in the chest. “I mean, after three months on the road together, I like you fine, but I thought it was a side effect of finding you cute.”

…Well, that was new information.

“Are you ok, Sasuke? You almost dropped your cup.” There was genuine mirth in her eyes. He was unused to seeing her so relaxed. “Don’t worry—you already knew that, didn’t you? I won’t be embarrassed about this in the morning, promise.”

Sasuke was suddenly finding it very difficult to breathe and accidentally inhaled half his glass. He doubled over, coughing. He might have gotten it under control sooner if Sakura hadn’t thumped him on the back for ‘help’.

“Didn’t you hate my guts two days ago?” he gasped.

Sakura waved a careless hand. “That was for being a stupid showoff when we came across that nest of giant spiders instead of just shooting them all before we ever even got there. I mean, you’re always going on about your stupid elf eyes. You could do us a favor for once and, y’know, use them get rid of the problem _before it becomes a problem_.

He scowled down at her, though it was more out of ritual than anything else. “But five days ago you threatened to cut off my ears if I didn’t leave some enemies for you to fight.”

“A giant spider is not an enemy, it’s a _menace_.”

“Well, you didn’t seem to have a problem. You tore through them like they were nothing.”

She giggled, hiccupping a little. “And you have excellent aim. In all ways.” She snickered. Sasuke hoped that his poker face included his ears. They had an annoying tendency to turn pink when he was embarrassed, and she knew it.

“That,” he said, “Is something you will have to find out for yourself.”

Sakura just looked at him, her gaze shrewd for someone who had polished off a whole barrel of their best wine. She reached up and tugged him down by the front of his tunic to her eye level. He didn’t resist.

“Do we have a challenge, elf?”

Sasuke swallowed, his collar tight, wondering if it was a bad idea to say yes.

“More like a promise.”

“Truly?”

He did not reply, but simply held her gaze.

Before he could answer in kind, she groaned, and slumped against him.

“My head’s hurting.”

Moment gone.

Sasuke grasped her forearms, and looked again in her face. Now there was the glassy sheen that he had been expecting. The wine was finally starting to affect her.

It probably wasn’t going to be pretty.

“I think you need to stop.”

“You need to stop,” she grumbled.

“I’m not the one who just reenacted Redbeard’s victory on a full barrel of wine and no food.”

“Redbraid.”

“Whatever.” He kept a steady grip around her waist and started to guide her away from the courtyard. No one would notice their absence; when his family threw a party, they went all out. “I’m taking you back to your room and getting you some water.”

“Ridiculous. I don’t feel sick.”

“Not right now. And even if you aren’t sick, you’ll have a pretty nasty headache tomorrow.”

Sakura stumbled and slumped heavily against him. “Are you telling me the perfect elves have not found a solution for hangovers?”

“I think the danger makes consumption more fun,” said Sasuke dryly, turning down a more sheltered corridor. “Of course, do remember that my family is rather sadistic and also take great pleasure in each other’s pain. Especially when they’ve been arguing.”

“Really? Ha! My dad would like that. Actually, both of them would. And they’d really like the wine. And maybe, once they had some wine, they’d like you.”

Sasuke snorted and swooped down, so now he was not only supporting her but carrying her, wincing a bit at her squeal.

But only a bit. It was nice, making her laugh instead of yell.

“Would they really need the wine?” he asked, turning down the wing that had been prepared for his friends. Sakura’s was furthest down the hall. “I think my parents liked you fine without it.”

Sakura hooked her arms around his neck, resting her head against his collarbone. “They _liked_ me, huh? The king and queen? They _liked_ me?”

“They did,” affirmed Sasuke, ducking through the sheet of gossamer silk that separated individual rooms from the corridor (some of his mother’s magic ensured the curtain would only move for accepted individuals, and no others). “They were caught off guard by how charming you are.”

“Hmph. Sounds like a backhanded compliment,” she muttered.

“Considering how elves and dwarves traditionally interact: I call it a good start.” He picked his way through her room, guided by the starlight through the high windows, careful not to drop her. Carefully, he lowered her onto the bed. “Which is good, because no one is going to be feeling their best tomorrow and everyone will just attribute your crassness to your hangover, not your natural personality.”

“Ruuuude,” drawled Sakura, wiggling further into the bedding.

“I only speak the truth.” He made to stand, but Sakura’s grip stayed firm. “Sakura, let me get you some water.”

“No.” Her grip tightened, bringing him closer. “Stay with me. You’re tired too.”

That he couldn’t deny. It had been a long trek to his family’s lands and an even longer audience with his father. Coupled with the food and wine Sasuke was about ready to follow Naruto’s example.

Actually, now that he thought about it, he should probably get the idiot to his room as well…

Unfortunately, that train of thought was promptly diverted by a sudden tugging at the back of his shirt, and suddenly Sasuke found himself on top of Sakura, pulled over her like a misappropriated blanket.

“Hey—Sakura!”

The dwarf in question gave a happy little sigh, and snuggled against him. Sasuke looked down at her, wondering how she was even breathing.

“Stay here,” she said again, eyes drifting closed. “At least for a little while.”

Her grip had not slackened. Sasuke sighed, more out of resignation than annoyance.

“Not leaving me much of a choice here,” he murmured, shifting so that he could at least kick off his boots before settling in besides her, one arm resting gingerly over the dip of her waist.

She did not speak, but gave him a half-moon smile, the curve of which his eyes traced as her breathing slowed and she fell into a dreamless slumber.


	20. prompt: stay close to me

fic drop: _the first thing sasuke does when they arrive at the enemy's hideout was to reach for his daughter's wrist, and a curt "stay close to me."_

sarada immediately snatches her hand away from him. he may be her father and mama’s husband, but that doesn’t give him the right to touch her.

“i know how to stay close,” she says, annoyed, but not enough to make a scene. whoever stole mama is in there, and getting her out safely is more important.

he only frowns at her, and reaches out for her again. sarada steps just out of his range; noticeable only to him and not the others, still gaining their bearings.

“besides,” sarada adds. “you need your arm for jutsu.” because her own anger towards him aside, mama loves him, has always loved him, and at the very least if he is going to come to mama’s aid sarada wants to make sure he goes full out. to prove, with _any_ kind of action, that he loves mama a fraction as much as she loves him.

“not losing you is more important,” says papa. but he lets his arm fall, and sarada steps back towards him, though not too close. “if there is anything that might bring the full force of your mother’s wrath upon me, that would be it.”

he sounds a little funny when he talks about mama being angry. almost happy. like he is certain of it and…proud?

sarada’s feelings have been up and down and all over the place ever since she set out to meet her papa, wondering about him and mama. now that she is no longer so angry ( _though sad, still so sad_ ), she recognizes his tone. It is very similar to mama’s whenever sarada asked about papa: a little sad or serious, but mostly fond.

she still doesn’t understand what’s going on—when logic says she is someone else’s daughter but she knows in her bones that she is mama’s, the same way she knew she would love papa, before she hated him.

and she thinks of the way he said that mama wasn’t weak. that mama would probably have already defeated the enemies who took her, without help. he sounds like mama: so, so _sure._

sarada isn’t that sure right now. not about anything…so maybe she’ll trust in his surety. trust in the threadbare hope that he loves mama too, regardless of what happened before.

she doesn’t say anything, only nods. but she steps closer into his space and though she does not take his hand, reaches out and takes a handful of his cloak. he doesn’t comment, for which she is grateful, only nods and turns back to call to the others forward. he looks at her and nods again. together, they set off to rescue her mama.


	21. prompt: stop overthinking it

fic drop: _"oh, ita-chan" mikoto pokes his son's forehead when he scrunches his brow over a complex question. "stop overthinking it, okay?"_

mikoto watches in amusement as itachi lets out a squeak and brings his hands up to protect his vulnerable forehead. he glares at her, with a surliness she knows will be fleeting.

“why do you always do that?” he complains, rubbing the tender spot on his head and pouting. he looks so much like a miniature of his father in that moment that she has to fight hard to hold back her giggles; itachi is only four, after all, and his feelings are easily hurt.

instead, she reaches out to ruffle his hair, and smiles her special smile at him

“to make you feel better by chasing away your bad or unhappy thoughts,” she explains. “i see them gathering around your head, so then i give it a little tap and–poof!–they are gone.”

“ _really?_ ” itachi’s eyes widen and mikoto really has to fight the giggles this time; itachi is usually such a mature little boy, but it is nice to see him act his age.

mikoto nods solemnly. “uh-huh. and to tell you i love you.”

“but you say that about everything,” complains itachi.

“because it’s true.” insists mikoto.

“do you even do it to tou-san?” 

“especially to tou-san. but only when no one else is looking.”

itachi mediates on this for a moment, as though considering the evidence, and gives a definitive nod. “okay. but kaa-san, my thought wasn’t a bad one.”

“oh? i’m sorry. here, i have it.” she holds up her closed fist. “do you want it back?”

itachi nods and holds out his hand. mikoto extends her fist over his palm and ‘releases’ the thought. itachi quickly claps his other hand over his first and draws it back.

“thank you, kaa-san. can i ask you what i was thinking?”

“of course, ita-chan.”

“…how is the baby gonna come out of you? you’re so _big_.” 

while mikoto is frozen, thrown off guard by the question, itachi reaches out and pats her stomach, for emphasis. he looks up at her, innocent and expectant of an answer.

“…when the time, ita-chan, i am going to have to concentrate _very hard_. and, with luck, your brother will come out _quickly_.”

“will it hurt?”

mikoto has never been one to lie to her child. “a lot.”

“so should i poke your forehead, or get tou-san to do it, so that you aren’t thinking about it?”

mikoto can’t help but smile. “of course, ita-chan.”


End file.
